Domination
by Laura JN
Summary: Moriarty has a new client, and he has a big blue box. A stolen big blue box. And an army of 6 billion Toclafane. Some homosexual flirtation: no idea where that's going, down to the characters really - Jim makes it unrealistic not to. I've rated it M because I don't know how dark I'm going to let it get XD. First few chapters will be more like K rating to be honest.
1. Tea and Biscuits

"I know I said I'd go back to play with the ordinary people, but this is just tedious." The consulting criminal moaned, signalling for his hired muscle to tighten his grip. Strong, raw arms squeezed more breath out of the man tied to the chair. Jim looked down at himself, and tutted, before straightening the pin on his tie. The fox just refused to sit at the right angle now, so he refastened it while he waited for the screaming to stop.

"W-Who are you?" The man gasped, "I'll talk, I swear!"

"I'm the big, bad, fabulous wolf that claws through your nightmares. I'm bored and the only cure is a challenge. Fight back honey, so I can snack on your normal, little mind." Jim yawned, as the tethered man simply stared up at him in horror. There were several meters between them, but it hardly mattered: It was not as though Jim would be the one to get his hands dirty. Why would he risk ruining his new suit? Just going near the moron would kill the atmosphere. He loved the fragrance of his own brand, and one step closer would fill his nostrils with the odour of blood and sweat.

"Are you going to kill me?" The man choked out. Jim groaned, what a dull conversation this was,

"If you're only contributions are going to be to ask such blindingly obvious questions, probably." Jim responded, deadly serious, "Otherwise Sebastian will continue squashing those tiny lungs of yours. Don't ask questions, just dance for me. I like hearing you BEG!" Jim shouted at the man, frustrated that he was getting nowhere. Since Sherlock's death nobody had been able to keep him entertained. Faking his own death had been simple, and his men had confirmed seeing Sherlock fall. He had owed him a fall. But after a debt has been paid, how does one keep busy? Jim had already begun searching for a new muse, but they weren't easy to come by.

Jim was utterly fed up with this catch though. He clearly did not have any useful information, nor was he fun to torture. He took a step back, to avoid any blood spatter that might find it's way to his clothing.

"Okay tiger, kill!" Jim smiled, watching as Sebastian finished the job. A final shriek of fear escaped his victim, before the body went limp. "Oh you do make such sweet music darling."

Just then Jim Moriarty's phone rang. He had grown tired of his previous ring tone, after rising from his apparent death, and changed it to something more appropriate: Ladies Night. He was in a slightly better mood after snacking on the sound of death, so he pressed the 'answer call' button and chirped into the device,

"Helloooo." He began, as he had not recognized the caller I.D. He hoped and prayed internally that it would be somebody interesting. "Oh its you... yes... what?" Sebastian looked up at him, wondering if it was good or bad news, "No? You don't say... I'll have to pay him a visit." Jim smiled as he ended the call, beginning to feel a more positive vibe about his day.

"A new client?" Moran asked,

"Somebody wants a sponsor!" Jim sang, "Lucy called about her husband. Harold Saxon: That mysterious man at the MoD that came out of no where. And he claims to be pennyless! I'll have to see if he's worth throwing money at." He signalled for Moran to follow him out to the car. "He wants to fund a few research projects, but lacks funds."

"I don't understand. How did he catch your interest? You seem... brighter." Moran chose his words carefully, knowing not to imply that Jim had emotional capacity,

"Oh I am darling. You see this research project will take him far. He wants to be the new PM. Our own little campaign. That will be fun, I can get him into so much debt that he'll owe me control of the country." He laughed, "And I already have that." He snatched the car keys from Sebastian's hands, and slid into the driver's seat. "If he's useful, I might even let him win the election."

* * *

Lucy Saxon opened the door, fully expecting to see some lunatic. Instead she saw a fairly normal looking man in a suit. He was almost normal. His dark eyes gazed up at her momentarily, before moving past her and taking in the hall. Lucy swallowed. She had been making some pretty dangerous choices recently but they were slowly getting her mixed up in more and more dodgy business. She was crazy about her husband: she needed him, but she knew he would only be interested in her for as long as she was useful to him. She was high up in society, and she had the wealth he needed to get by in this time period. Harold was not really human though, and a human wife would only ever be temporary. He didn't need to tell Lucy that though. They entertained each other, following the path of lust that spanned between them, and Lucy kept promising herself not to get emotionally attached.

Lucy knew the man at the door was Jim Moriarty. She had spoken to him a few times on the phone, after becoming one of his informants. It was her husband who needed him now though, and Harold got what he wanted. She just hoped that he had heeded her warnings about Jim.

Moriarty snapped his gaze back to Lucy. He enjoyed putting on the pretence of a polite businessman to keep his clients happy. He took her hand and gave it a gentle but firm squeeze. That was what he had learned made women more comfortable. She relaxed visibly, letting her shoulders loosen and straightening her posture. A subtle smile played about her lips,

"Welcome to our home Jim. Allow me to take you to Harold's office. He would have come down to greet you but he received a sudden call from the Ministry of Defence. He should have finished by now though." Lucy explained. Jim smiled sweetly for her, tilting his head back a little. She lead him down the hallway, and up a flight of stairs. Down the corridor from there was Harold Saxon's office. Jim turned to Lucy. He enjoyed keeping tabs on her; This woman who got herself tangled up with all the wrong people but still held strong. His interest was purely business related however. He was really more curious about her husband.

* * *

"Knock _knock_~!" Jim called, swinging the office door open. "I hear you need my help?" he asked to the room at large as he entered. He closed the door behind him, and took the seat in front of Harold's desk. The man was slim and sinful; his innocent looking face, framed by dark blonde hair. Jim scanned the room for clues about this man, but could see nothing of immediate interest. The book shelves were littered with political books, classic literature.

Harold observed his guest, noticing his rich, deep voice and the Irish accent, with undertones of slaughter. This was his kind of man: Someone pleasant. Jim had finished scanning the room with his eyes, and was now far more tempted when he spotted the plate of biscuits on Harold's desk, "May I?" He asked,

"Of course." Harold smiled, lifting the plate to offer Jim a bourbon. The criminal consultant wanted to pop the biscuit into his mouth, but there was a proper way to eat bourbons. He lifted off the top layer carefully, before using his incisors to scrape off the softer, more chocolatey layer. The creamy infusions of cocoa and sugar hit his tongue, sending sensations of pleasure through him. He then crunched the remaining biscuit, before returning his attention to his client. Harold was staring at him, "Is that how everyone eats these?" He was confused. It seemed illogical to eat a snack by tearing it apart when it was clearly intended to be eaten in two bites.

"It's a_ bourbon_." Jim responded, as if that answered his question entirely on its own. "Now, Harry dear, tell me about this Lazarus project." He lay back in the chair, putting his feet up on his client's desk, challenging the man to scold him. Harold did not blink. In fact he answered immediately,

"Your dear friend Mycroft Holmes is assuming the identity of Professor Lazarus, who had an unfortunate and sudden run in with a machete. Mycroft will lead the project from now on, but I'm still working in the MoD."

"And you need me to fund it until you can get government backing?" Jim stated.

"That's the very surface of the matter. I thought however, that you would be more interested in the project itself." Harold smiled. Jim's ears pricked up, what could this man possibly have that he would want? "Harold Saxon is a pretence you see. I have another name: A name that means I need power. I can get that power but on this planet I need money. I've risen up the ranks of this pitiful organization and now I know how the weapons work. What I really need however, is my own personal brand. Mr. Holmes is making sure that I get it." He could see Jim nodding off, until he mentioned the word 'planet',

"Come again? You've been to other planets? I didn't take you for an astronaut Harry," Jim's eyebrow raised a fraction. Harold burst out laughing,

"I suggest you talk to Torchwood about that one. My name is not Harold, I told you. I am the Master. One of the last of my kind: a race called the Time Lords. Have you heard of them? No I thought not. I've been to hundreds of planets, thousands, and yet finally I come here. Why? Because there's someone who's buttons I want to push. I want to make this world mine, and mine alone. Its the only way to get to him." Harold continued, but Jim was still focused on an earlier point in the Master's dialogue. He was alien? Alien? Jim was about to get up and leave when Harold smiled.

"What is it? You going to try and prove your little fairy tale with a magic trick?" Jim was utterly disappointed. He had been hoping for a real find. He wanted crazy, but this man was a simple fool. Alien? World Domination? This was ridiculous. "And who told you about Torchwood? They're top secret, even from the MoD."

"Not from Mycroft, and not from me. And no there's no trick. I'm going to show you. Follow me." Jim turned to walk to the door instead. "Oh I see, the logical mind meets chaos and it runs in fear." The Master grinned,

"Fear? Logical?" Jim looked taken aback. He stood there for a moment, before he began laughing uncontrollably. "HA! That is priceless darling. You think I'm one of them." He fell to his knees as tears of hysteria ran down his face. He cringed and howled at the very idea that this man thought it possible. Him? Sane? What a joke. "Oh aren't you just precious. I'll humour you for a moment, but if you show me anything less than_ thrrrilling_, I'll leave." He rose to his feet again.

"I think thrilling is an understatement for most." The Master smiled subtly as he turned his head, and lead Jim out of a side door from his office. The next room was small, and cramped: made claustrophobic by the presence of an old police box blocking anyone from moving inside.

"You wanted to show me a relic from the fifties?" Jim frowned, annoyed already,

"Oh its far older than that 'darling'." The master unlocked the door to the police box, and held it open. "Take a look for yourself." Jim's frown grew deeper, as his expectations lowered more and more by the second. He strode into the box, expecting to meet a wall with a phone and a fat book. Instead he wandered into an enormous room, filled with green and blue tints of light. He frowned.

"Easily faked, you make the room before it look like a closit with a box. The box is a door." He stepped out again, barely phased by the pretty lights and the strange device in the centre of the huge room. He stood in the tiny closet in front of the blue, wooden doors. "You disappoint me." But he caught the hint of amusement in the Master's eyes. Jim glared. He held eye contact, and then walked around the side of the box. He continued walking, until he had walked in a full circle around the room. He glared at the Master again, before walking around a second time, and then back the other way. Jim felt around the floor for trap doors; the roof of the police box for a mirror. He slammed his fist against the blue frame. The Master watched on in amusement.

Jim was fed up. He needed control. He had to be in control. How could there be no explanation as to how this thing worked? It should be simple! There had to be some trick that made it look bigger on the inside! He walked back into the police box, and began searching the interior for clues. He carefully observed the door frame from the inside, before walking over to the device in the middle of the room. The distance it took him was far greater than the length of the tiny closet outside.

The Master walked into the room, shutting the door behind him. Jim sank to the floor, and began laughing again. The Master walked past him, and over to the console,

"I'm afraid its been tampered with, so we can't go far, but if I must prove my point." He muttered. Jim looked up at him. There was more? He stood up, and straightened his suit. He composed himself, before placing his hands slowly into his pockets. The Master pulled on levers, pushed some buttons and the engine whirred into life. The console began making a loud, grinding noise. "It's a shame you have to see her like this. She's been trained well you see, she'll only obey _him_. So we can't go further than three-hundred miles, and she can't even travel through time. Typical isn't it?" Jim took in the words but failed to make much sense of them. Clearly this man was frustrated; had stolen the police box from someone else, but what was this talk about travel?

Jim watched in steadily rising intrigue, as the Master continued hammering buttons, until finally the engine ground to a halt, and the whirring noise faded to a light thrum. The Master looked a little shaken,

"Something wrong Harry boy?" Jim asked, sauntering over to him,

"No, its just that noise..." He shook his head, then smiled, before walking over to the door. "That damn noise reminds me of..." Jim paid no attention to the man's insane rambling. He walked straight past him, and opened the door, expecting to see the closet. Instead, he almost fell off the top of a towering sky-scraper. He took a step back, then edged his way around the side of the police box. The roof was small, and reminded him slightly of the one where he had made dear old Sherly take a tumble. He walked over to the edge, and gazed out over the city before him,

"Belgium..." He commented, "Okay, you win, daddy's impressed." He placed his hands back in his pockets, and walked back over to where the Master was standing with his arms folded, leaning against the blue box. "So what is this?" He asked, gesturing by cocking his head towards the machine.

"She's the T.A.R.D.I.S. I won't bore you with what that stands for. She's basically transport. But there's something wrong. She's supposed to go through time _and_ space. And a lot further than this. While I'm busy making repairs, I'll need staff. I'd do it myself, but campaigning for PM takes up a lot of one's schedule." He mused, "Now that my identity is a little clearer to you, perhaps we should get down to business."

"Oh hold on there." Jim smiled, and walked right up to the strange man, "Look at you; a bloody leopard in human skin. But don't try to tell me you're alien." He looked the man over. Definitely human in appearance.

"I wouldn't bother. Just do me a favour." The Master whipped a large stethoscope from one of his small trouser pockets. Jim's eyebrow raised a little higher, "Check my pulse." He held out the doctor's instrument. Jim frowned again, before laughing,

"Role play is it? I don't mind. Whatever floats your boat honey." He tried to stop giggling as he took the stethoscope. He put in the ear pieces as the Master unbuttoned his shirt "I don't know why you had to take me all the way to Belgium to get away from your wife but-" He stopped his teasing mid-sentence, at the sound he could hear though the instrument. He moved it from one side of the Master's chest to the other, down, then up again. That was definitely... impossible. "You've got a real drummer in there." He commented, in disbelief,

"Two drummers. Drumming. Constantly, non-stop." He wrapped on the T.A.R.D.I.S's wall with his knuckles. Four times, over and over. That was the sound of his heart beat: The sound of every Time Lord's two heart beats. It was the sound of the drums.

Jim slid off the stethoscope and tutted, before palming it into the Master's hands. He reached out with his other arm, and held the man by his jaw, tilting it back, as if examining a patient. He let go a moment later, and rolled his eyes skyward, as if this were a normal dose of insanity for him. He was used to weird, strange, out of place: But this? He giggled all through the short trip back to the Master's office, and didn't stop until he had popped another bourbon in his mouth, still taking care with how he ate it.

"So, you're the Master, and I'm the big bad wolf. Which one of us do you think should be taking over this world?" Jim pondered,

"Me of course, I'm the one with an army." The Master laughed,

"You're not the only one, honey." Jim yawned, wondering whether this was worth his time, crazy or not,

"Mine's better. Mine's bigger." The mad man smiled,

"You want to bet? I highly doubt it Mr. I-Need-Funding." Jim slouched in his chair, and picked up a cup of tea that had been brought in while they were gone. He took a sip, waiting for the man's response,

"You got over six billion snipers?" The Master's smile broadened into a far more menacing one than Jim had seen him use so far. He spat out his tea,

"Six billion?" He put the cup down back on the desk, resting it in it's saucer. "You're bluffing."

"I'm not. Its four at the moment, but with your funding, I'll fix the T.A.R.D.I.S, turn her into a paradox machine, and bring my army to this time period. I like to think of them as my children." He smiled in a way that mocked nostalgia. "I'd bring them back now, but they'd kill their ancestors and die. Not a good plan." He explained. Jim was getting tired of all this alien waffle.

"Look darling, I'm sure we can agree on a nice little sum for you, but if you do plan on killing the human race, I'd rather not be left out of the loop. I want reports on every stage of your campaign, the technical progress, and this Lazarus project. I want it in a file, on my desk, every week. No more than five hundred words. Get one of your pets to do it." Jim nodded to the Master before standing.

"Oh and one last thing." The Master piped up. Jim spun around. "A gift. Or more like a token. To celebrate our new partnership." He handed Jim a small box,

"A pen? Oh thank you." He said, confused by this change of character. He spotted the knowing look on the Master's face, and opened the box. There was a small pen shaped device. It was clearly not a pen though. "Show me." Jim ordered. The Master took the device from the box, and pointed it at the wall. He pressed a button, and a red light glowed at the tip, before shooting out a thin blast of energy, that created a small chasm in the wall. The damage was contained, but the smoke came from a good nine inches into the wall. "It's like the iPad of sniping." Jim smiled, genuinely pleased with his new toy.

"Its a laser screwdriver, but call it what you like. There are several different settings. Mycroft is working on a new one for me. I'm giving you the most recent prototype. This one can do that." He gestured to the wall, "As well as open doors, and hack software." He stated. Jim grinned,

"Oh I feel so exclusive! And what's this new feature adding to the mix?" He eyed the man carefully, his curiosity reaching an all time high,

"Ageing. Literally. I could point it at anyone, and age them physically. Most of their life slipping away in seconds. More fun, pretty useful. Stops them running away if they have some other use." Jim nodded slowly. Maybe Harold Saxon was going to prove a good client after all.

* * *

Jim slid back into the passenger seat of the car, as Sebastian had moved into the driver's seat in his absence. Jim gave him a familiar look, that he knew was signal for a specific command. The assassin reached for a packet of chewing gum, and pulled out one of the pieces. He pulled the wrapper off, and held it lightly between his teeth. Jim leaned forward, and took it from him with his lips, savouring the taste of obedience. He began chewing the minty snack as he fastened his seatbelt. Sebastian was eyeing him cautiously, searching for any signs of anger, or anything to be worried about,

"Good client then." He said after a while, and turned on the ignition,

"Fabulous."


	2. Coral

The Master simply refused to succumb to the plague of hay-fever going around number ten. He had been certain that Time Lords were immune to earth's diseases, but even he was sneezing with the amount of pollen in the air. He had only been Prime Minister for a week, but his plans were already beginning to take shape. He had contacted the companion's family, laying out his little trap for her. His weapons were all ready, and his ship was already under construction. Things were going pretty well for him, thanks to his sponsor.

But just when _was_ Jim Moriarty going to pay him another visit? The criminal consultant had been busy. Four of his assassins had been arrested, and Sherlock was back from the dead. How had that happened? He assumed the same trick that he had used on himself. The private detective must have been hiding for some time, because it had been a year since his apparent death. Jim was amused, but also frustrated. Some people should just stay dead. He had been toying with the man since the first intel came in suggesting that he might be alive after all. Jim had known immediately that it was true. After playing a few little games with him, he had grown bored, and sent in his assassins. All four of them, in jail: How did that happen? They were _supposed_ to be professionals.

It was not until the first week of Harold Saxon's new labour government, that Jim decided it was time for a check up on his play thing. Sebastian had wanted to go out drinking later, but Jim's patience was growing thin. He needed to see that man. That strange alien man who had shown him a new world of possibilities. Jim needed more though, much more, if he was going to keep himself entertained. He sent a text message to Lucy:

Coming over,

tell Harry to put the kettle on,

save me some biscuits,

JM

Lucy seemed a little cheerier this time as she opened the front door. Perhaps her husband had been in a good mood after winning the election. Jim had never personally been inside the walls of number ten, downing street before. He knew that it was risky coming here in person, but then all it took was a pair of sunglasses, and he blended right in with security. He would have preferred a pair like Elton's, but they would have drawn attention_ to_ him rather than having the desired effect.

Only when the door was securely closed behind Jim did he remove the shades, and assume his normal posture. He slouched very slightly, and slid his hands back into his pockets, hating to conform to modern standards. He was still a school boy at heart. A naughty little school boy trying to hide something in number ten. He trudged up the stairs and ambled into the Prime Minister's office. No security checks necessary for James Moriarty.

The Master was not sitting at his desk, but gazing out of his office window. When Jim entered the room he walked over to shake hands with his partner in crime. Jim was not good with shaking hands: He only did it when necessary. He preferred a less impersonal way of greeting people he considered interesting. When he took the Master's hand, he held onto it for a moment longer, just to make his position clear. He didn't like people getting ahead of themselves either.

"Nice to _see_ you Harry." He smiled, tilting his head marginally to the side, "I do hope you've been a good boy this year, or there'll be no presents."

"Oh I have Jim. Allow me." He gestured for Jim to follow him. Jim rolled his eyes. What had he done now? Painted the T.A.R.D.I.S red? He strolled after the Master with his hands still planted firmly in his pockets. He was indeed being lead towards the large blue police box. As they approached, a woman handed Jim a cup of tea,

"Ah, you did put the kettle on then." There was a hobnob lying next to the cup. "I'm flattered." The Master opened the door to the T.A.R.D.I.S, and Jim walked inside. It _was_ red. "Typical. You want it to look evil to annoy this mystery man, so you pick red? Why can't evil be pink... or purple. Maybe lilac. Have you considered a visit to Homebase? They have these lovely cards from the Dulux range that you can have fun browsing over..." He trailed off, seeing that the real difference in the room was not the change in lighting.

"She's a paradox machine now. Or almost." The Master beamed, "Soon my children can come home!" Jim stared on at the transformed machine. The Master had completely changed the purpose of the thing, using it to harness time rather than flow through it. The console was imprisoned in metal panels and thick tubes sprouted out in all directions. A pressure gauge showed the growing tension from deep within another part of the labyrinth of rooms, coming through a great thick tube. The poor beast had been well and truly captured.

"I hope you're keeping her well fed." Jim commented, admiring the Master's handy work. "She looks like a starved animal. If she breaks free, she'll snap your neck." Jim was beginning to understand the strange entity that lived inside this machine: the longer he stood there, the more he could hear her growl. "Its a shame you're a woman, sweetheart." He whispered so low that only the T.A.R.D.I.S could hear him. She responded with a low rumble of displeasure. She only wanted one man, and she would sit here making life difficult for the Master, until he came to rescue her. There was only one way out of this for her. She had to be destroyed so that the paradox would correct itself, and restore her to normal. Time should never be messed with like this. Jim didn't bother himself with those details though, he was more interested in this living, thinking and feeling box.

After Jim had finished amusing himself, they returned to the Prime Minister's office. Jim sat down, pondering what debt he could squeeze out of this man. It seemed that the paradox machine was incomplete, but would soon be ready to use. He gazed into the eyes of the other man, searching them for something useful; something fun. Then something clicked inside his mind,

"Harry dear, we simply must make some sort of arrangement." Jim fought the smile that threatened to take over his face,

"We must?" The Master was confused, did they not already have an agreement? He would not let this man use him,

"Definitely. You see I like to always have a back up plan." Jim mused, "And if that bird fell into the hands of the angels, I dread to think how hard it might be for me to carry out my operations." He was really winging it here. Even the T.A.R.D.I.S was not a threat to his business, but the Master did not need to know that, "So I want to clone her. She's clearly organic, so it should be possible. Just find out where her DNA is hidden, and mail me a sample. I won't bother unless there's any trouble, but just in case."

"You're a fool. You know nothing about her species, raising one isn't easy."

"What is she, a plant?" Jim laughed, but then realized that he had not been far off the mark. "Oh I get it. Too much sunlight and she'll dry out, too much water and she'll drown. Post me instructions too then." He could not understand why the Master was over complicating this: he could have just explained that they had to be grown in a certain environment or whatever conditions one needed.

"She's a coral. And you'll hit a snag no matter how well you grow her." He laughed. Clearly there was something Jim was missing here, "They take thousands of years to grow. You'll never have one for yourself." He laughed. Jim thought about this for only a moment, before coming up with a new idea,

"Soooo, I start growing one now, in a _super_ secret location, pay a family for a hundred generations to keep an eye on her, and send her to me when she's fully grown... and" he paused for dramatic effect, as whirring noises began fading in and out of earshot. "I ask them to bring her to this moment. Well that sound alone tells me you're going to run into trouble with her Harry." The whirring noises grew louder and louder, as a photo booth appeared in the room. Jim laughed, "Why is she a photo booth?" He pulled the curtain aside. There was a door, that wouldn't have been in a normal photo booth, with a note on it. It read:

Dear Jim,

We've fulfilled the family debt. I'd have come along for the trip but I wanted to leave this all behind,

Steve.

Jim would probably never know who Steve was, or who he was descended from, but it hardly mattered. All he needed to know was that his plan had clearly run smoothly. Now it was time to play. He called back out through the curtain,

"Mail me that DNA and instructions Harry." Before disappearing through the door. He had been expecting the same blue and green hues of the T.A.R.D.I.S the Master had stolen, but instead he was greeted by something more unusual. So they took on the appearance of something from that time period on the outside... and on the inside, they developed biotechnology. Jim did not care for the ins and outs of science, but he had to admit that this was cool.

Deep purple club lights lit up the curving rocky walls. Off-white strobes and a touch of the late seventies filled Jim's senses. The entire vibe of this machine was different. Did the interior reflect the pilot? He grinned, striding over to the console. It had occurred to him that he did not know how to fly a T.A.R.D.I.S, but he had an inkling that there wasn't an instruction manual. He went for it, and flicked a switch, before pulling out a sliding shelf. There was a strange sort of keyboard sitting on it, with a language of swirling symbols that he did not recognise. He frowned.

"How am I supposed to talk to you if you don't speak English?" He asked his new pet. "You travel, surely you can manage a simple human language." He could feel the resentment at that remark: The machine thought he was cheeky. "Good lord, you're male aren't you?" He teased, as a screen blinked into life above him. "A computer? No. This is the only face you can show me." He was enjoying talking to the other presence in the room. He realized now how clearly it was there, and how much he was clearly his mother's son. "So where are we going?" Jim asked. He fancied being surprised. The trip to Belgium had been to illustrate a point, but was hardly a thrilling choice of venue: Not when the whole of existence was at your fingertips.

Before Jim could get the console started, the Master walked into the room. He did not appear to be phased by the strange taste in décour, and far more amused by the fact that Jim's plan had clearly worked. It took a lot of care and time to grow a T.A.R.D.I.S as healthy as this one. Jim must have found a very secure location indeed. As he walked over to him however, he could see that the criminal consultant was struggling with a decision. Did he really want the Master in here? Not really. "Honey what do you think? Should the Prime Minister join us?" His pet was not loyal yet, but nor was he happy with this intrusion. The door flung open fully and the Master was thrown backwards by some invisible force, right outside. The door shut behind him, and Jim heard a 'click' of the lock turning.

"Now then. It's our first trip, so no human companions allowed. Maybe next time daddy will bring Seb." He grinned to himself, before pulling a lever and tapping at some buttons, bringing the console to life. The whirring noise grew louder again, and a great grinding sound started up. He did not like the sound of that, it was like leaving on the hand break of a car. He saw something hanging from the ceiling with a handlebar of sorts. He pulled it, and the engine steadied. Seeing that his assistance was no longer needed, and his T.A.R.D.I.S seemed to have some kind of auto-pilot, he moved away from the console. He wanted to take a peek outside.

Jim reached the door, but realized it was still locked. Where was the key? He looked up, and saw it hanging from a strange formation in the coral. He plucked it from it's rocky hook, and examined it closer. It looked like a normal front door key. He couldn't risk loosing this though. After unlocking the door, he stepped outside, and locked it again, before placing the key chain carefully around his neck, and sliding the key under his shirt. He then drew back the curtain.

Instead of a strange, alien landscape, was a swirling vortex of colour. What was Jim looking at? It was like nothing he had ever seen, a strange fusion of matter, all tunnelling around him. Something strange whispered inside his head, telling him that he was looking at time itself. The time vortex. He realized that he had been staring for only a second, but it was beginning to hurt. Clearly it wasn't meant to be looked at. His whole body felt wrong and old as he looked away. He had to tear his eyes away from the bizarre scene. He locked himself back inside the T.A.R.D.I.S, and sank to the floor. It took him several minutes to recover fully. Gazing upon something that should not take a physical form, was not something the human mind could handle.

Finally, the console began to slow, so Jim stood up and went to ensure they could make a smooth landing. He pulled on the same handle he had used to keep them steady before, and the console slowly came to a halt. Jim had to admit a tiny amount of pride at managing to master this system on his first try, with no help whatsoever. He felt an aura of complaint nagging at him. The T.A.R.D.I.S did not like to be taken for granted. So he had helped guide Jim to the right gears. "Good pet." He smiled. He pulled the screen towards him and gave it a kiss. "Daddy's so proud." He smiled, before locking the door once more, and walking out to meet with whatever new world awaited him.

Momentarily disorientated, Jim barely noticed the infant being placed in his arms, almost dropping her. He stood there for a moment, ignoring the baby, and taking in the room around him. He had arrived in some sort of futuristic maternity ward. Nobody seemed to notice the sudden arrival of a photo booth in between the beds of worn out looking mothers. He shoved the child into a passing woman's hands, and walked towards the door. Then he did a double take, had she had a cat's face? A furry, pert, cat's face? Jim shook his head, and walked out of the door.

Jim was clearly in a hospital, but where? And when? He shoved his hands in his pockets, and began strolling down the corridor. A window: that's what he needed. He could see one right at the end of the hallway. Carefully dodging the scurrying cat-faced-nurses, who reminded him more of nuns, he made his way to where the light was shining in from outside.

Through the window, Jim could see a city. It looked somehow like New York, and otherwise completely different. There were vehicles flying about in organized lines towards the towering sky scrapers, and a long plane of grass stretched out in front of the hospital. Was he on earth? He hoped not. Jim wanted new and exciting.

"Welcome to New New New New New New New New New New New New New New New New York." Called a male voice from behind him. Jim remained gazing down at the view from where he stood. Nobody could take him by surprise.

"Why keep rebuilding the same city?" He asked absent-mindedly,

"_Well_, if I were one of the thriving human colonies, I'd probably want to remember my heritage as well." That caught Jim's attention. He turned around slowly. Whoever this stranger was, he had just implied that he was not human. Jim turned to find himself facing a rather tall, skinny man; clothed in a brown pinstripe suit and converse,

"Thats very 2000's." Jim commented, giving the man a once over, "You're not from here either." It wasn't a question, the truth was clear. He was face to face with another time traveller. What were the odds of him running into the very man who's skin the Master was trying to get under? Jim stiffled a laugh,

"Nope." The man smiled, before turning rather serious all of a sudden, "The real question is, how did _you_ get here." His searching gaze pierced Jim in a way that he did not like. It was as if he could read the surface of his thoughts, just by concentrating.

"Its a long story. Any time travelling tips to share? If not, I'll be off." Jim wanted to explore, but he also wanted to get back to get out of this hospital,

"You just might be the first person to ever ask me that..." The stranger laughed, "My only advice is don't bring danger anywhere – it turns tail and starts to follow you." The man sniffed, "And its still after me. Its like being on a universal wanted poster." Jim was certain this was supposed to be a warning, but to him it sounded more like a gold mine.

"You attacked somewhere?" He asked, despite seeing the stranger clearly wanted to avoid the topic,

"Worse. Anyway, best not to get caught up with other time travellers. If you see a blonde woman in a blue hoodie, tell her 'the Doctor' is heading downstairs? She's wondered off again..." he rolled his eyes in an eccentric manner, before turning on his heel and jogging off down the corridor. Jim blinked. He was beginning to feel that he had not fully understood the concept of 'weird' until that moment. All the normal looking people seemed to be the most _mad_.

Jim took a final glance out of the window, before going in search of the way out of here. He went down several flights of stairs, and found himself in a lounge area. He then realised that the ward he had entered originally, was not just maternity. It had been specifically_, human _maternity.

Jim Moriarty suddenly found himself faced with a room of sickly, mostly grumpy looking aliens. His mouth opened very slightly.

After finally finding the way out of the hospital, Jim decided that he was going to make the most of this trip. He was not ready to get caught up in anything just yet, and he wanted to collect information. He tapped the shoulder of a strange looking humanoid creature with a tiny globe in it's hands. Thick tendrils of flesh protruded down from it's mouth, and it's eyes were squinting at a peculiar angle. Jim barely noticed,

"Would you mind telling me what currency is used here, and if there's anywhere that will take credit cards?" He asked,

"Certainly. They accept dollars at all cash machines. Cards can be upgraded at the bank." The creature spoke through the little sphere in his hand. Jim should have known, this was New York, of course they still used dollars in the future.

"One more thing, do you happen to know the date... And maybe the name of the planet we're currently on?" He was having difficulty deciding how much technology seemed to have advanced. Mass produced flying cars did appear to be a clue that this was further than anything he could have predicted happening within his lifetime.

"This is New Earth, and the current year is five billion and twenty three. Have a nice day." Jim's jaw finally dropped a little, as the creature bowed ever so slightly, before walking towards the hospital. Jim stood there for a moment, and slowly began laughing. Suddenly he was very glad that his business cards were in his inside blazer pocket. He then thought to himself, 'if I was me, after this trip, knowing I could come back here at my leisure, what plans would I lay out to make life more interesting?' This tiny question slowly consumed him, as he headed towards the city.

The shadows of the many towers did not hide the growing sinister look on Jim's face as he entered the city centre. He picked a fancy looking junction in the air roads, and stood below them. He spun around in a circle, and picked the most eye catching building he could spot at that speed. 'There!' he pointed, and slowed down. He was staring up at a humongous sky scraper, with the letters 'MCC' embossed on the front. The font was elegant and masculine, and very dark. He walked towards his criminal consultancy building with a slight skip in his step.


	3. Informant

Jim was careful not to let the biscuit crumbs find their way onto his Westwood suit. You can't replace art. His suits were all kept in pristine condition, unlike his mind. Jim had always been fond of letting his thoughts run wild: He spoke freely, and enjoyed playing games, but if something better came up, he could easily change his mind. That was Jim: changeable.

He had set up office at several points on the time line, between 2012 and the year he had found his company on New Earth. He would switch between them, depending on his mood, and enjoy the change of scene. He had to admit, this was a superior lifestyle, and he should reward the master for playing along. He was considering this, when something strange happened.

Suddenly, Jim felt as though something had been taken from him: a pang of loss; of intrusion. What had just happened? He searched his own mind for an answer, and found that something was indeed missing – memories. An entire years worth of memories. He was standing somewhere different to where he had been a moment before. He had been leaving his T.A.R.D.I.S, but now he was walking back towards the machine. He marched inside, and pulled the control panel towards him,

"How long? How much time have I missed?" He asked the male presence in the room. A new window flashed up on the monitor. It displayed an earth calender. "A YEAR?" Jim yelled. He did not like this. How _dare_ anyone mess with his head? He did not care how they had done it, but he wanted to find them, and skin them slowly.

Jim whipped his mobile phone out of his pocket, and called the Master. It rang several times before Jim spoke, "What just happened? Who did this to me?" there was a pause of silence,

"Jim? Its Lucy," She sounded distant, lost and empty, "he... he's not..." She could barely speak. Was she crying? Jim would get nowhere like this, and he needed answers,

"Where are you love? I'll come over and we'll talk-" He was cut off from his attempt to sooth her,

"Jim... he's dead." Lucy was ever so quiet. Jim's hand moved slowly to his face, as his remaining strand of patience left him. What did the Master think he was playing at? Jim knew full well that he could regenerate... surely Lucy knew that much? She had clearly been aware, at the very least, that her husband was not human.

"All right Lucy, its okay, I'm coming over. Are you at the residence?" There was a moment of silence again, before she responded,

"No, can we meet somewhere else?"

"Of course honey, how about I send a car to come and pick you up?" That would make things easier for both of them – Lucy would have to do less thinking, and Jim would not have to worry about her taking too long. All of his drivers were efficient. Lucy agreed, and Jim ended the call.

Jim was tapping his feet, pacing, and pulling at his shirt collar. He was never stressed, but had never been more impatient than he was feeling right at that moment. He wanted to know what was going on. He hated nothing quite like being ill-informed, and right now he was lacking an explanation, and a years worth of memories. He did not bother to feign calmness until his driver pulled up and opened the door for him. His face was an instant mask of concern, as he climbed into the car to sit beside Lucy, placing a hand gently on her knee,

"I'm so sorry for your loss." Faking empathy was the one challenge he still had yet to overcome, but he felt that he had taught himself well enough to pull this off if he was brief. As the car drove away down the city streets, he slowly lifted his gaze to meet hers, using what he knew to be a pained expression, "You must be greatly distressed."

"No, I'll be alright." She did look shocked, but not as aggrieved as Jim had been expecting. He could tell just from her reaction that she was hiding something _big_. Good. So she may be the one with the information he needed. "I'm just in shock."

"It was unexpected?" Jim asked, eyeing her carefully whilst trying to maintain his air of caring how she felt,

"Well... yes and no. In hindsight it was inevitable." She sighed only a little. Her eyes were wide and distant, telling Jim that this had happened recently,

"Was he doing something dangerous?" Jim asked after a pause, hoping she would be more specific if he asked the right questions,

"Only a few people remember. Only those directly involved... but yes, it was insane... what he was doing." She was staring at the floor now. Jim removed his hand from her knee, and began stroking up and down her back, slowly and firmly,

"He was an ambitious man. I suppose power consumed him in the end..." Jim knew this was not possible. The Master was clever, and always had a back up plan. If he had taken an extreme route, he would have laid out an escape plan of some kind. He would not believe the Master was dead until he saw the body, and even then, he would need further proof. A more reliable witness would be a good start. Lucy was a walking bomb of information right now, but he would have to set his men onto sieving through the facts and the exaggerations. So far she had revealed very little.

The car pulled up outside his private block of flats. Jim could have bought a mansion, or an grand estate, but he found his flat easier to maintain. He would allow very few people inside, and did not trust cleaners, so he had chosen somewhere large enough to suit his needs, and small enough for him to maintain by himself. Lucy would be the first female to enter his room. There were hotels for others, but he wanted this information to be exclusive to him, and for no prying eyes to get hold of it. Lucy would become suspicious if he took her anywhere else. He stepped out of the car, and offered her his hand. She took it absent-mindedly, and allowed him to lead her into the towering, concrete building, and into the lift. She leaned against the mirrored walls, clutching loosely at her tiny handbag, as if some comfort could be found in the dark leather casing.

"Power didn't consume him." She finally spoke, answering his earlier question, "It was an ordinary bullet." Her sentences were so disjointed that Jim was becoming annoyed, but at least he now knew that it had not been an accident. The Master had been murdered. He tried to look surprised, whilst wondering how long it would take her to tell him who had been holding the gun. She remained silent however, until they reached his flat, and had stepped inside. Jim locked the door, realising she would say no more until they were securely out of earshot of others. He forced himself to appear warm and welcoming, and offered her a drink. She simply shook her head.

Jim looked over to his sofa, then gestured for her to sit down with him. He carefully positioned himself at one end, resting his arm along the top edge of the cushions, leaving his lap looking like a welcoming headrest. Lucy lay down there gratefully, resting her head on his thighs. He could feel her warmth through his legs. He began lightly playing with her hair, moving his hands through the long strands of blonde, knowing that grooming had a calming effect on most people.

"Did Harold tell you about his army?" Lucy finally asked Jim, as he pulled a loose lock of hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear,

"I believe he mentioned it..." Jim responded. He must have tuned out when the Master had mentioned this, little details like that seemed so unimportant,

"They came. They attacked... so many people died. He had that man in a cage, the one like him. Harold had done something to... to make him age. He looked impossibly old by the end of it." Jim did not understand much of this, but he was relieved that she was talking about something relevant at least, "Then his friend came back... Martha, I think her name was. She tricked Harold, told him she had a weapon that could ruin his plans. He told her it wouldn't work, but she had been distracting him from the real threat..." Jim had to fight the urge to yawn at Lucy's dramatic re-telling of these events, "The Doctor. She had spent a year finding a way to free the Doctor. Everyone, everywhere, calling his name out at once, willing him to save them... and he did. He was young again, and he broke free... he was like fire and ice... and he made Harold afraid. You should have seen him..."

"And this doctor... he killed Harold?" Jim asked, pausing, he recognised that name,

"No, no the Doctor... forgave him. Harold couldn't take it: not after all he had done. It had all been his way of trying to... 'win'. Being forgiven was his definition of loosing." She finished. Jim was confused now. If the Doctor was the time traveller he had met in the future, and the Master's enemy, then why had he 'forgiven' him? What would it take to get this woman to talk sense? He returned to stroking her hair, and let out a breath, hoping she would take this as his understanding, though he needed to know more,

"You must understand Jim... Harold had gone mad. He was no longer the man I married... or perhaps I had been blind to his madness... but he had to be stopped. I had to make sure that he could never do something so terrible again." She rolled onto her back, to look up at Jim, and held his gaze. He actually felt a jab of surprise. _Lucy?_ She had shot the Master? He had always thought of Lucy as the subservient type; to put up with her husband until the end. He had thought her more likely to kill _herself _than her husband. He had to think carefully before he spoke,

"Perhaps it's for the best, Lucy. In doing so you've saved your own sanity. It sounds like he had gone much to far. You gave him a quick, painless death. He would have been in prison for decades..." Jim trailed off, to let his words sink in, "you saved him too." Slowly she nodded,

"That's why I pulled the trigger." She blinked up at him, though there were no tears in her eyes. She was clearly well past that, "To end it all. And everything he did... that entire year, it was erased. The Doctor took back his machine... and it fixed itself, and the damage." She breathed, "But I saw it happen. I still remember it all. I believe the Doctor and Martha, and her family remember it too. They dealt directly with Harold... and saw time re-writing itself. I had to watch... I'm glad those people are now alive, but..." She paused. "Now I have to announce his death, give the press a cover up story... I'm the Prime Minister's wife for god's sake Jim... They'll expect me to have all the answers." This was true, Jim realised, but it gave him something useful,

"I'll tell you what Lucy. You can stay here tonight, and I'll keep the press away. I'll get my men to write the cover-up. You need this time to recover." He said, looking down into her baby-blue eyes. They had shadows under them, from her obvious lack of sleep. She looked much older than she was in that moment. He knew that she would owe him now, but he would have to start calling in favours soon. She was the Prime Minster's wife now, but as soon as the press released the news of Harold Saxon's death, she would be a nobody. She would be in all the papers, and probably on TV. A public face was no use to Jim. He needed Lucy Saxon, not Lucy the widow. If he was going to find out more, he would have to keep her here, until he had had exactly the right story for the press.

For now, Jim carefully lifted Lucy into a sitting position on the sofa. She was still watching him as she moved, and stayed close,

"Why would you want to help me, Jim? I'm a wreck..." She asked. There was not an ounce of accusation in her voice, nor any sign of weakness. She had no energy to feel afraid any more, that much was clear,

"You've been through a lot Lucy, but that doesn't make you a wreck. You're a _survivor_. That's admirable." He laid it on thick with his silky, deep voice. Their gazes locked, and Jim lifted his hand to cup her cheek, "You deserve so much better." Her chest was rising and falling fast, so he mimicked her, breathing harder and deeper. Lucy reached for his tie, and pulled him closer, her gaze wandering to his mouth. Great, thought Jim: If she had a thing for him, it would be easier to keep her nearby. Much easier than torture, but less fun for Sebastian. Jim was still weighing his options when he realised she was waiting for him to make the next move. She would not be the one to initiate something like this so soon after the Master's death, even if she did not think of him as her husband any more. If he blew her off now, he may loose her, and any further information with her. He leaned forward, closing the space between them, and took her soft lips between his.

Jim slowly prowled forward, causing Lucy to lie back down on the sofa, gasping between hot kisses. He would do what it took to keep her here. His hand reached to grip the small of her back, the other holding him above her, allowing him to move and keep her beneath him on the cushions. She appeared to be in a trance-like state, her body moving, but her mind far away. He would have none of that. He pressed his lips to her neck, kissing a sensual line towards her collar, before nipping her with his teeth. That seemed to bring her back. She sucked in a breath, and her lips curved into a rare, cheeky smile. To his surprise, she moved her arm to the side, knocking him off balance as she rolled on top of him. Oh god, he thought, with a jolt of realisation: she was used to dominant men, and knew exactly when she was being manipulated. What had he gotten himself into?


	4. Muscle

Lucy had Jim pinned down between her legs. He lay beneath her on the sofa, looking up at her. She knew she had caught him off guard, but was that genuine surprise in his expression? Jim Moriarty had always been hard to read, perhaps even more so than the Master. She could not understand why he was going along with this, after she had just confessed to killing her husband; Jim's friend. Perhaps they had not been as close as she had imagined. She mulled over this as her fingers found their way to his throat, and undid the dark, designer tie around his neck.

Jim was looking at Lucy with an almost blank expression, as she removed his tie, and began undoing the buttons of his shirt. She knew that he was waiting for the perfect moment to take control again, but she could not have anticipated the moment he decided to slide out from under her, and lift her up, carrying her into his bedroom. She was too surprised to stop him, and had no real objection to the change of scene.

Jim's room was lighter than she had expected. The walls were painted the pale purple colour of bluebells, lit by the sun pouring in through the large window. The deep, orchid curtains were wide open, and the floor was carpeted softly in the same rich colour. As Lucy was flung onto the bed, she was dimly aware of the sound of cars driving past outside, and the evening tourists chatting as they walked down the street in groups, heading out of the city. As Jim climbed onto her, she caught the masculine scent of him, and whatever cologne he was wearing. She raked her eyes over his body, but somehow she was the one who felt exposed. She knew she should not be getting involved with a man who was probably even more dangerous than Harold, but it was his fault, not hers.

Jim had sounded deadly seductive whilst managing to restore some of Lucy's confidence in herself. She could not help it, she needed a distraction to keep her going while she recovered, and here he was, the devil in Westwood, removing her dress with his smooth, careful hands. She tried again to remove his blazer, but he took her hand in his, and kissed his way up her arm. Was he distracted or just really attached to his suit? She wondered.

Hearing a 'click' as the door to Jim's flat unlocked, Lucy sat up. Did someone else have keys to Jim's flat? He climbed off of her, giving her a sideways glance. He walked out of his bedroom, his clothing loose and his hair ruffled. She watched him, wondering who might have walked in. She was half curious, and half afraid. What sort of people did Jim tangle with?

A moment later, Jim was pinned to the wall of his living room by a tall man with lithe muscles. Lucy thought she might scream, but Jim was looking at the man with... _amusement_? She watched silently, as the man held Jim's wrists on either side of them. Jim was smiling now, but he took another glance at Lucy, and swore. The man turned, following Jim's gaze, with a look of confusion, then spotted Lucy. She stood there, uncertain of how he might react. He was looking at her with what was unmistakably jealousy. He walked over to her briskly, releasing Jim from the wall.

Jim looked startled for a moment, then grabbed the man's arm,

"Now Sebastian, there's no need for th-" Sebastian kept walking though, barely aware of Jim's grip around his arm. He reached Lucy and gave her a once over, interrogating her with his eyes. Close up, she recognised him as the man who drove Jim's car,

"You're Lucy Saxon, the Prime Minister's wife." Sebastian assessed. Lucy nodded slowly, glancing between the two men, trying to understand whether she was in danger or not. Jim, who she had never seen look anything other than stoic, seemed to be concerned. She swallowed. Jim tugged on Sebastian's arm again,

"I invited her Seb, its fine really-" He insisted, but Sebastian cut him off again,

"Is it?" He asked sharply, turning to look at Jim. There was a clear, heated energy passing between them. Nobody could have missed it. Lucy wondered if Sebastian was more than simply Jim's chauffeur. What _on earth_ was he doing with her then? Was Jim using her? She had to know, now,

"Jim," Lucy glared daggers into him. She did not care who he was, she would not have encouraged him to make a move on her if she had known that he was involved, "Explain. Now."

Jim looked taken aback at this, but he was brushed aside by Sebastian, who strode right up to Lucy. His hand reached forward, aiming, she realised, for her neck. She ducked, and shot past both men. She ran for the door, and skidded around the corner. Sebastian was right behind her, and she knew when she saw the key in the lock, that she was not going to make it out of the flat. Jim was calling after Sebastian, his voice full of panic.

Then he caught her. Lucy felt strong, brutal hands reach around her chest and grab her. She was lifted into the air, and rammed into the wall. She gasped, the air completely knocked out of her lungs.

"What the hell-" She gasped,

"Nobody speaks to Jim Moriarty like that." Sebastian spoke right into her face. His hazel eyes were locked on hers. His expression was murderous. Jim, a look of resignation on his face, sat down on the sofa, and swung one leg elegantly over the other,

"_Really_ Seb," He sighed, "I told you not to treat my guests like your play things."

Lucy coughed, choking against Sebastian's fingers,

"Jim?" She struggled to force out another breath. All the emotion had left his face. He was paying no attention to her whatsoever.

"I suppose she would make a nice new jacket." Sebastian commented. Lucy froze, completely still. Was he serious? He did not look like he would have any problem killing someone. She had been stupid to come here, but she had thought she did not care any more what happened to her,

"Let her go, Seb." Jim lowered his gaze to Sebastian. Lucy did not know why she was surprised that Jim was taking her side, but she was. She felt strangely out of place, as if she were merely a piece of furniture being discussed. Had Jim's earlier look of concern have more to do with Sebastian misunderstanding than her being in danger? She felt a sinking feeling in her gut that she was a mouse caught in a trap.

Sebastian, however, let her go. Another look had passed between the two men, and Sebastian now seemed to understand that she was not to be attacked. He reminded Lucy of a wolf; a wild beast who would not listen to reason, only to his pack. Jim, it would seem, was Alpha, although Sebastian was the muscle. Lucy clawed at the wooden floorboards, gasping for breath. She could still feel the weight of heavy hands on her neck, and the pain in her back where she had hit the wall.

"Where shall I put her then?" Sebastian asked Jim, who simply shook his head. He walked over to Lucy, and offered her his hand. She had to fight the urge to slap it away. She would not make the same mistake twice, and knew that angering Sebastian was like signing a death warrant. She took Jim's hand, and allowed him to help her to her feet. She staggered backwards a step, dizzy from the lack of air to her lungs. Jim waited for her to regain her footing, then lead her towards a different door. She thought for a moment, that it might be his bathroom, but when he opened the door, she could only see a modern looking photo-booth. What was that doing here? She followed him inside however, through the curtain, and onwards into a large chamber. There was _no way_, that this fit into Jim's flat. Lucy stared around her at the room, as the door closed behind her.

The large room was lined with rock-like walls, with light bouncing off them in dark purple hues. A strobe light shone down from the high ceiling, causing the room to blink in and out of view. Lucy's stomach churned. What was this place? It was making her feel nervous, as if they were not the only people in the room.

Jim swiftly climbed the steps in front of them, and leapt over to the central console. Lucy looked up to see a giant, whirring column of light. It made a low, grating sound, as if it were a breathing creature. She hurried after Jim, and saw him twisting some knobs, and pulling a lever. The whole room lurched into life, rattling about, and flinging Lucy to the side. She grabbed onto the railing that was conveniently placed around the console, probably for such events, she supposed,

"Jim, what is this?" She asked him. She had been quite for a while now, but she had recovered her breath for the most part, though she still ached all over.

"Who, not what." Jim replied, typing something onto a keyboard with strange symbols on it, his other hand holding on tightly to the console. "Don't worry Lucy. I'm just taking you somewhere out of harm's way." 'Harm' meaning 'Sebastian'. "It won't take a moment." And with that, the room ground to a halt, and the lock clicked open again. Lucy shot Jim a questioning look, before making her way towards the door. She did not understand what he had been talking about. How did flicking a few switches move her out of harms way? She was still in the same room. Or so she thought. She flung open the door they had walked in through, and opened the photo-booth curtain. She gasped, and thought for a moment that she might really faint. She had seen many strange sights while she had been with Harold, but this was the last straw.

Lucy tried to get back inside, but Jim had already followed her out of the photo-booth, and began to usher her forward, "Nothing to worry about. Its just to make sure you don't go wandering off." Jim assured her. She felt the empty pit of her stomach churn. They were standing in the middle of a circular room; the height of the grand canyon, and the width of a small stadium. Glass-sealed cells lined the walls, many of them occupied with prisoners. Most were sitting down, but some were standing up, ramming their fists into the glass, and pounding as hard as they could. They were clearly not pleased to see them.

Jim gave Lucy another push forward, "Come on honey, I'll show you to your _boudoir._" Jim's voice became higher in pitch on that last note, as if there was something funny about the situation. She tried to run back to the phone booth, but he caught her arm, and yanked her back towards him. "Now, now, don't be like that. Daddy's put a lot of hard work into this." He smiled, thinking of the slaves he had 'borrowed' to build this place for him. It held every businessman, every lawyer who had ever stood in his way. All the ones that he had not wanted Sebastian to kill: All the ones that would be some use to him.

Lucy struggled, knowing she needed to get away from here as fast as possible. Who knew how long she would be here if he imprisoned her. As she fought, some of the prisoners cheered. She risked a glance over at one of the occupied cells, and saw to her horror that it contained an old man in a suit. She recognised him as someone from the MOD. Was that _Mycroft Holmes_? She spun around to wrench herself free of Jim's grip, but his hands were securely locked around her wrist, pulling her towards the nearest empty cell. Jim yanked her over to the security panel on the cell, and waited as it scanned is eye, and the door opened. He all but threw her into the tiny white room, before he hit the lock button with his open palm. She stared at him, as he stood there, grinning. His shirt was still loose, and his hair untidy, and with a stab of hurt, Lucy realised she had let him fool her, jut for a moment. He had intended to keep her when he had first laid eyes on her, knowing she was a gold mine of government secrets.


End file.
